


Fic: Tactile (Battlestar Galactica)

by cerebel



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-12 01:11:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cerebel/pseuds/cerebel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Inspired partly by the porn battle prompt "Gaeta/Helo, protect" and partly by <a href="http://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?user=ingrid_m"><img/></a><a href="http://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?user=ingrid_m"><b>ingrid_m</b></a>'s request, a few weeks ago, for a Gaeta/Helo/Athena fic. So, yeah, I gotta say, this one is entirely ingrid's fault. 100%.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Fic: Tactile (Battlestar Galactica)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired partly by the porn battle prompt "Gaeta/Helo, protect" and partly by [](http://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?user=ingrid_m)[**ingrid_m**](http://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?user=ingrid_m)'s request, a few weeks ago, for a Gaeta/Helo/Athena fic. So, yeah, I gotta say, this one is entirely ingrid's fault. 100%.

Pairings: Gaeta/Helo, Gaeta/Sharon, Helo/Sharon, Gaeta/Helo/Sharon.  
Rating: NC-17 (with pairings like that? *yeah*.)  
Spoilers: to 3x08 "Unfinished Business"  
Warnings: Explicit m/m/f sex.  
Notes: Inspired partly by the porn battle prompt "Gaeta/Helo, protect" and partly by [](http://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?user=ingrid_m)[**ingrid_m**](http://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?user=ingrid_m)'s request, a few weeks ago, for a Gaeta/Helo/Athena fic. So, yeah, I gotta say, this one is entirely ingrid's fault. 100%.

  


-  -  -

“Sharon Agathon.”

 

Gaeta’s voice is crushed by the weight of the crowd, and a great many of the eyes in the room are on him, he knows. He feels the heat of the light shining down on him, on the boxing ring, and he winds the last of the tape around his hands.

 

“What?” Sharon asks, disbelief coloring her face.

 

“You heard me,” Gaeta snaps. 

 

Helo has his arms around Sharon’s shoulders; Gaeta avoids his gaze. There are some things Gaeta doesn’t want to think about right now, and Helo is one of them.

 

Sharon shrugs, unloops Helo’s arms, and slips under ropes into the ring. 

 

Dee pulls on Gaeta’s first glove. “Felix, what are you doing?” she asks quietly, but he shrugs the question away, like he didn’t hear it.

 

When the bell rings, something tightens inside him, and he focuses straight in on her, on _Sharon_ , and the world goes quiet around him. 

 

He sees her shift weight, one foot to the other, and he ducks instinctively. The blow glances off his shoulder, and he pivots, moving with the hit, and throwing a counter-punch, straight to her face.

 

It impacts, and something bloodthirsty stabs down his spine and into his stomach. 

 

Sharon turns back to him, anger in her eyes now, and hits him back, a combination to his face and chest. Gaeta tastes blood. 

 

That, that’s better, but it wasn’t with her full strength. The world shines for a second, and the outside noise rushes back, as he steps back, out of range, dancing away from her blows. Taunting her. Something nauseating and horrible twists inside him, and he steps in, hits her with all the strength in him.

 

The crowd’s cheers are incomprehensible, but Helo, Starbuck, the pilots – they’re rooting for her, and it makes Gaeta sick, sick and satisfied all at once. She’s clearly the better fighter, stronger and faster both, because she’s a Cylon and she’s trained for this in the Colonial fleet. Gaeta has none of those advantages, and he’s getting his ass kicked. 

 

Pain explodes in his ribs, and he thinks his nose is bleeding. 

 

She hits him again, and he falls, impacting to the mat. 

 

“Don’t get up,” she says, but he does, he scrambles to his feet. 

 

“Gaeta,” she says, dropping her hands, but her guard is down and he punches her in the chest, knocking the breath out of her, and she has to defend herself.

 

From there, it’s vicious and bloody, and it’s still funny, funny to everyone except for the two people in the ring, and Tigh, and Dee, looking on. Sharon keeps knocking him down, but Gaeta won’t stay down, he gets up again. 

 

This is the way he wants it, just like this, and with every fresh bruise, his chest loosens. This way, almost paralyzed with the pain from every part of his body, he can finally breathe.

 

Tigh steps in, eventually, declaring the fight for Sharon, and Gaeta lets Dee pull the gloves off. 

 

Gaeta stalks away, grabbing his tags, and staunching the blood with one of his tank tops. He ignores the eyes on him, and goes straight to the head near his rack, stepping inside the shower and turning the water as high as it will go.

 

In the rising steam, he examines his injuries. None of them are life-threatening, not even the long mottled one staining his skin just under his tattoo. He leans back against the wall, breathing slowly, and he wonders how long it has to be before he can do that again. 

 

\----

 

When he opens the shower stall’s door, Sharon is there, leaning against the far wall, waiting. She sees him, and uncrosses her arms, standing up fully.

 

Gaeta glances around – no one else in the room. _Frak_.

 

Schooling his features neutral, he steps past her—

 

—but no, she moves into his path. “Why did you make me do that?” she asks brusquely.

 

“Lieutenant,” Gaeta says, “I’d like to get some rack time, so if you’ll excuse me.”

 

He tries to go past her again, but she steps in front of him. He’s about to dodge around her, she’s not really blocking the way, just suggesting physically that he stay, but she touches him.

 

Gaeta flinches away, but she steps closer, just barely touching with her fingertips, the bruise on his ribs. 

 

He catches her wrist. “You don’t want to do that.” He’s surprised by the steely danger in his voice; he didn’t think he had it in him.

 

Sharon looks up at him. “You want to feel alive, is that it?” she accuses. She yanks her hand out of his grip. “Try finding a nice girl – or guy, or whatever – to frak next time, huh, and leave me out of it.”

 

“This had nothing to do with you,” Gaeta denies, and then he realizes that wasn’t what she asked, not really.

 

Gaeta pushes her aside, slipping past and to the lockers along the side of the room.

 

She follows. “What did I do, Felix?”He opens the locker, and she settles beside it. “What did I ever do to you?” Her voice is incredibly hurt, somehow, and Gaeta bites back his response. 

 

She hisses in irritation. “Gods, Gaeta, I’ve done nothing but help this crew and there are still people who hate me!” She pushes him, by his shoulder (one of the few uninjured places on his body) against the wall of lockers. “I’m on your side,” she emphasizes. “I work for the Galactica.”

 

“I know,” Gaeta says. Yeah, he knows – this is Sharon, and she’s in love with Helo, but sometimes it’s better to pretend that she’s someone else, maybe Boomer or just any of the Eight models. 

 

“Then _why_?” she snaps. “Why? I didn’t want to do that, and I bet Helo didn’t really want to see it, either.”

 

“Yeah, Helo really cares,” Gaeta mutters, and Sharon pushes him more roughly against the wall.

 

“What do you mean, _yeah_?” she asks.

 

The door opens, at the far end of the room, two people entering, and Gaeta thanks the gods. Grabbing his balled-up shirt, he slams his locker shut, and dodges away from Sharon, as far as he can get. 

 

\----

 

When Gaeta curls up in his bunk later, he rolls up his shirt, and touches the bruise again, a soft stroke just the way Sharon did. He likes it, the concrete evidence that he’s been touched, that someone has touched him – he hasn’t been the center of someone’s world since before the Cylon attack, since Helo…

 

Gaeta’s unimportant and overlooked, and he knows it. There are bigger things than him that are happening to the Galactica, to the fleet, to all of humanity and it’s okay with him. Even so, tonight – if only just for a little while, all of Sharon’s attention was on him. 

 

And she had touched him, without violence, even if it was just once.

 

He sleeps like that, fingers curled over his ribs.

 

\----

 

“There was something odd,” Sharon murmurs, her head resting on Helo’s shoulder in the darkness of their room. “I think—…” She stops, props herself on her elbow, moving so that she can see the vague glint of Helo’s eyes. “I think he still has feelings for you.”

 

Helo stills, stops doing that nice caress over her bare stomach. “No way,” Helo says. “He hasn’t given me the time of day since I got back from Caprica, he acts like he barely even knows me.”

 

“Sometimes,” she says, “you have to read between the lines.”

 

“What do you mean?” 

 

Sharon half-smiles; he really _doesn’t_ know what she’s talking about. “Gaeta knows how to hide what he feels,” she says. “If he doesn’t think you feel the same way, then he’s not going to make you uncomfortable, put you in that sort of position. He’s too…” she rolls words around on her tongue. “Efficient,” she decides.

 

“And the boxing thing?” Helo asks. “What the frak was that?”

 

Sharon cocks her head to the side. “I don’t think it was about you,” she says honestly. “Or about me either.”

 

Helo pulls her down next to him again, running a hand through her hair. He likes her hair. She smiles, hidden by the dark.

 

“I might have gone back to him,” Helo says, “if you hadn’t come along.”

 

“I didn’t want to hurt him,” Sharon tells him.

 

“I know,” Helo responds. 

 

Sharon stills, remembering the look in Gaeta’s eyes as he attacked her, and she names it: horror, disgust. He didn’t look that way when she cornered him in the head, just scared, frightened like a child. So, the disgust wasn’t for her, as she’d assumed, angry and clenched just after the fight was over. 

 

No, the disgust must have been Gaeta’s, for himself alone. 

 

She knows that feeling well; she had it often enough, herself, on Caprica with Helo, the other Cylons dogging their steps. She was a traitor to Helo then, and she counts herself lucky every day when she remembers that he forgave her.

 

Sharon imagines what it would be like to kiss Gaeta, if he would have as much passion as he had anger today in the ring. She imagines licking his bruises, and listening to him sigh underneath her touch, remembering the involuntary gasping noise he’d made when her fingers touched his chest. 

 

Sharon had hurt Gaeta that day, but she was far from the first one to do so. 

 

“He’s broken, Helo,” she says, breaking the silence. 

 

Helo hesitates. “Do you think it has something to do with those rumors?” he asks, “Some kind of hit squad, wasn’t it?”

 

Sharon nods against Helo’s chest. “Yeah,” she says, “I think it has everything to do with that.”

 

“Because they had it in for him?” Helo questions softly. “Because they wanted to kill him?”

 

“No,” Sharon denies, “because they didn’t succeed.”

 

\----

 

Gaeta supposes he really shouldn’t be surprised when Helo falls into step beside him at the end of his duty shift the next day.

 

“How are you, Lieutenant?” Helo asks, casually, flicking some imaginary dust off the edge of his sleeve.

 

“Fine, sir,” Gaeta responds, neutrally. “And yourself?”

 

At that, Helo glances over. “Felix,” he begins, and Gaeta is absolutely certain this is the prelude to a conversation he does _not_ want to take part in. He turns down a hallway, but Helo follows him.

 

“Hey,” Helo says, touching him, “Felix,” and Felix shrugs his hand away. Helo’s touch isn’t welcome, not anymore. Helo gets the message, and steps out of Gaeta’s personal space, past the line that ex-lovers shouldn’t cross, and Helo looks at Gaeta with a sort of indescribable sadness in his eyes. 

 

“Do you still want me?” Helo asks.

 

Gaeta blinks, and he was right, it’s really not something he wanted to talk about. The words stick in his throat, and he hesitates.

 

Of _course_ he still wants Helo. 

 

“No,” Gaeta says firmly. “I don’t.”Helo starts to speak, but Gaeta interrupts. “You’re with Sharon.” Gaeta doesn’t want to start up this kind of conflict, he doesn’t want to open up in a way that means he could be hurt.

 

“What if I said that wasn’t, so much, an obstacle?” Helo asks lowly. 

 

Gaeta recoils, wondering if this were real, if Helo would really treat Sharon the way Lee treats Dualla. 

 

“I’m not talking about cheating on her,” Helo reprimands, reading Gaeta’s mind, and suddenly Gaeta sees a series of flashes, images that make him go a little weak inside. 

 

Touch, gods how he misses being touched.

 

And then Helo’s in his personal space, a hand on his waist, gently stroking with his thumb, another hand on his neck. Gaeta breathes in, sharply, and he reaches up to touch Helo’s arm. “Helo,” he starts, and Helo drags him into a kiss.

 

It’s familiar, so achingly familiar. Helo kisses this way, deep and searching and long, when he wants Gaeta to know that he has Helo’s attention. Gaeta makes a soft noise, because he _loves_ this, and because his skin is tingling. Helo pulls away. 

 

“I knew it,” Helo murmurs. He interlaces his fingers with Gaeta’s. “Come on,” he encourages lowly, “before you pretend you don’t want this.”

 

Gaeta closes his eyes.

 

\----

 

Helo pushes a knee between Gaeta’s legs, drawing his back closer to Helo’s chest. Gaeta tries to breathe, and he looks up at Sharon. 

 

Her fingers trace a wandering path, up to the tiger curling on his chest, and she leans down and licks, kisses his bruise. Gaeta turns his head into Helo’s neck. 

 

“No,” Helo mutters, “oh, no, you don’t.” He won’t let Gaeta hide, and Gaeta gasps, though not in pain, as Sharon runs her tongue up the bruise. Sharon smiles at him, and she kisses him again.

 

There’s honest desire there. Gaeta remembers the fight from the day before, and shame curls in his stomach. 

 

He feels a hand close around his cock, and he shudders into Sharon’s mouth. It’s her, light strokes, not _nearly_ enough stimulation. Gaeta groans, leaning his head back against Helo’s shoulder. 

 

“Sharon,” Helo says, “right behind his balls,” and Sharon quirks an eyebrow.

 

Gaeta squirms. “No,” he breathes, but then Sharon’s hand is down there. She touches lightly, and he jerks. 

 

“Massage it,” Helo says, “and see what happens.” 

 

Gaeta makes a sort of breathless pleading noise, but she does it anyway. A light, almost tickling massage, _just_ the way he likes it, and Gaeta involuntarily draws his legs up, and Helo doesn’t need to do anything to keep them apart anymore. 

 

“Keep on,” Helo tells Sharon, and she does, just a little bit harder, and Gaeta bites out a cry. “Yeah, that’s it,” he murmurs into Gaeta’s ear, and Gaeta shudders. His cock is getting so hard, the massage pooling his blood, he feels like he’s going to die like this. He’d forgotten how much Helo loved driving him crazy during sex, so completely out of his mind that he’d barely be able to beg for more.

 

And judging by the look on her face, Sharon doesn’t entirely disagree with Helo’s methodology. 

 

Sharon touches his cock too, with her other hand, and does a firm stroke in perfect counterpoint. “Oh, gods, please,” Gaeta begs, “please, _please_ ”. 

 

Sharon’s hands still, and Gaeta goes still too, afraid to move if it meant she’d take her hands away. 

 

“You need to frak him now,” Sharon announces.

 

“I really, really agree,” Helo responds, and Sharon passes the lube over to him.

 

Gaeta feels a finger breaching him, and he inhales, exhales, tries to calm down and relax. He’s done this before, but not for a while, and it might hurt. It will hurt. 

 

“Gods, you’re tight,” Helo chokes out, his other hand on Gaeta’s waist. He wriggles the finger, back and forth, and Gaeta tenses. “Sharon,” Helo says, “some help here.”

 

Sharon grins. “Never thought I’d hear you say that,” she says, with affection, and she kneels over Gaeta. “What can I do, Felix?” she asks.

 

“Just touch me,” Gaeta manages to say. 

 

Sharon looks as though it’s something she wants, too, and she moves back. There’s a light, sweeping touch along the inside of Gaeta’s thigh. The hand leaves, resumes up his side. He flinches, a gasp of ticklishness, and Sharon moves up further. She puts her hand in the middle of his chest, and stays there. “Felix,” she says, and his eyes meet hers. “It’s okay, we’re here.”

 

Gaeta closes his eyes, and some of the tension, inside him, uncoils.

 

He feels Helo spread him open, and push a second finger inside, and he sighs. Sharon is in front of him, and Helo behind, and he just feels so _secure_ all of the sudden. 

 

Sharon’s hand goes back, behind his balls, and she pushes like it’s a control in a Viper or a Raptor, a specific control to do a specific task, and Gaeta can’t define why it’s such a huge turn-on. Helo pushes a third and a fourth finger inside. Gaeta’s stretching so easily, now, and Sharon puts a hand on his cock, not stroking but just holding.

 

Gaeta can feel Helo and Sharon exchange a glance.

 

Suddenly, simultaneously, Sharon pushes, harder than before, and _pinches_ a little, still just holding his cock with her other hand, and Helo stabs inwards, hits that spot inside with unnerving accuracy. Gaeta convulses, he shrieks, and he comes, into Sharon and Helo’s hands.

 

He comes down from the high slowly, aware of Helo’s hand withdrawing, of Helo moving behind him.

 

“Should you really,” Sharon starts.

 

“Trust me,” Helo says, “he likes it just after he comes.”

 

Gaeta is irritated, then, because how dare Helo speak for him like that, but then Helo pushes inside, the head just slipping in. Gaeta just molds to fit him, relaxed and open, like more of a liquid than a solid. Helo’s right, he _does_ love this, but still not completely right, because Gaeta loves everything Helo does.

 

“Oh, _please_ ,” he breathes, barely a whisper, but Helo hears it, because he starts moving in steady, firm strokes. 

 

“Yeah,” Helo mutters, “yeah, that’s good.”

 

“I love you, Helo,” Sharon’s voice rings out, and Gaeta sees them kiss over his shoulder, Sharon’s breasts pressed into him. And then Sharon moves down, and she touches her lips to Gaeta’s, almost reverently. 

 

“Sharon,” Gaeta groans.

 

“You two are so hot.” And that’s Helo again, kissing Gaeta’s neck. 

 

Gaeta squirms. “Helo, _please_.” He’s hard again, though he can’t see how he could be, after what happened already. “ _Helo_ ,” he cries out, broken, gripping just below Sharon’s arms, and she chokes off his breath, her tongue touching his. 

 

Helo jerks behind Gaeta, coming. He rides it out with Gaeta, pushing as deep inside as he can go, and _deeper_. Gaeta groans, helplessly, and he feels Helo get soft.

 

He feels Helo get soft and _not move away_ , staying inside him.

 

“And my turn,” Sharon says, and she sinks down on Gaeta, taking him to the root.

 

Gaeta might have shrieked again, he’s not really aware of his actions, and she starts rocking on top of him. He can’t move, not without risking Helo pulling out, and it’s just too much. 

 

Helo takes Gaeta’s hand, and pulls it back behind him, down, down further, until Gaeta is touching Helo’s cock, and the point where Gaeta is stretched around it. 

 

“We’re connected,” Helo whispers in Gaeta’s ear, “I’m connected to you, and you’re connected to her.”

 

Gaeta’s hand seizes on Helo’s, and he twists, and he’s coming again, free-fall inside his veins, and he feels Sharon, the unbearably warm Sharon, coming too, all around him.

 

Helo slips out of Gaeta then, and he turns Gaeta and kisses him, so incredibly long and aching and wonderful. There’s a touch on his back, and Sharon has her fingertips on another one of the boxing-inflicted bruises, as though she could heal it just by wishing it away.

 

“You’re staying, right?” Sharon asks.

 

Gaeta doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he just lets her kiss him instead. It’s okay, though; she understands, and so does Helo.

 


End file.
